


i pushed you down deep in my soul for too long

by justpalsbeingals



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Green Arrow and the Canaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant (through mid season 7), F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpalsbeingals/pseuds/justpalsbeingals
Summary: Dinah wants to know more, but has reservations about asking anything else. Somehow this ties into her and the tattoo on her back, and even though Dinah’s pretty sure she knows what this means, she doesn't want to. If she never asks, she can at least live in blissful ignorance.Dinah accepts defeat and says, “What does this have to do with me?”Laurel so doesn’t want to spell this out for Dinah of all people.“We get soul marks. When you meet your soulmate, matching tattoos appear.”Orit's a Dinahsiren soulmate AU y’all!
Relationships: Dinah Drake/Earth-2 Laurel Lance
Comments: 28
Kudos: 82





	i pushed you down deep in my soul for too long

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HerDiamonds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerDiamonds/gifts).



> It’s the tropiest trope of all my friends, completely conceived of by [coco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerDiamonds) ! Credit to her for the plot and a healthy amount of the dialogue. This is what happens when she has too many ideas and I have too much time to write
> 
> Title from Bring On The Wonder by Susan Enan (though the solo Sarah McLachlan version is where it's at)

It’s not that Laurel doesn’t believe in soulmates.

She’s seen soulmates before, back on Earth-2. Seen the way two people will meet for the first time and two matching marks will appear on their skin because they’re meant to be. Try as they might to avoid each other, a magnetic pull will always bring soulmates back together. 

If identical tattoos aren’t enough to clue a couple in on their connection, the bonds they share certainly are. After all, it’s pretty hard to ignore your soulmate when you feel all of their pain, experience all of their emotions as if they’re your own. 

Growing up, Laurel heard the tales of couples who were made for each other. Two sides of the same coin, puzzle pieces snapped perfectly together. She knows every metaphor, has witnessed too many love stories. There’s irrefutable proof: soulmates are real.

Laurel, however, also knows not everyone meets their soulmate. 

In theory, everyone has one. But the problem with matching marks and emotional connections that only reveal themselves after you meet in person, is not everyone is granted the opportunity. Too many people on Earth-2 live their life in a haze, just bouncing from person to person without any real sense of purpose, all because they can’t find their true love. 

Love hasn’t been too kind to Laurel. She always assumed finding her soulmate wasn’t really in the cards, and she made peace with that fact. There’s too much hurt in the world to pine over some “perfect” person whom she might not ever meet, who might not even exist. 

So, it’s not that Laurel doesn’t believe in soulmates; rather, Laurel doesn’t believe in soulmates for herself.

When she arrives on Earth-1 to learn the soulmate bond doesn’t exist, she's honestly a little relieved. 

One less thing to worry about. 

It’s not like Laurel is here to find love anyway, it’s more of a _help evil take over the world_ type of thing. Between Zoom’s army and Adrian Chase and being left for dead after her not-father shoots her on Lian Yu, Laurel doesn’t have much time to contemplate true love.

Which is why, late on the night Cayden James recovers her from the dreaded island, Laurel is shocked to notice a new tattoo blooming on the back of her right arm, just above her elbow. It’s a black bird, wings fanned out, and it certainly wasn’t on Laurel’s skin the last time she looked properly in the mirror. 

To say she’s confused by the new development is an understatement. Even if you ignore how Laurel is in a universe parallel to her own, she isn’t exactly known for her participation in social events. The number of people she's met for the first time between escaping A.R.G.U.S. custody and being rescued from Lian Yu is small enough to count on two hands.

In the end, she lets it go. Laurel wasn’t made for love, and this doesn’t change anything for her. 

It’s probably insignificant. 

They ( _her_ _soulmate_ , Laurel shudders to think) are probably insignificant. 

Most likely someone she bumped into while traveling with Prometheus or an irrelevant underling of Talia al Ghul who was offed during the final showdown with Oliver and his mess of a team. 

It doesn’t change things.

Laurel is still on a mission for Cayden James. 

She bugs the bunker and kills Vincent Sobel and fights almost to the death with Dinah, screams until she can’t scream any longer. Then she’s shot, nursed to health by Quentin, falls back in with Ricardo Diaz and his dangerous games, and somehow makes it through the ordeal alive. 

Quentin doesn’t, and Laurel mourns her father for the second time. 

Between all of this, it’s no wonder she doesn’t waste time pondering the love of her life. It’s only when Laurel catches the backside of her arm in a mirror they even cross her mind.

In the meantime, Laurel fills her time attempting to actually be better. Quentin believed in her ability to do good, and Laurel will be damned if his death is for nothing. 

She studies, really studies, to be effective in the original Laurel’s shoes, and her hard work pays off when she’s appointed district attorney. Laurel begins to believe a little more in the rule of law. She doesn’t, however, start to get close with people. 

Laurel is purposeful in her attempts to limit interaction with Oliver’s associates. With Dinah no longer actively attempting to kill her and Felicity in witness protection, Laurel is finally able to breathe. There’s no looming threat of the team over her shoulder, and with Diaz in the wind, she focuses on solitude.

Until there’s word of the Longbow Hunters back in Star City and Dinah sticks a protective detail on her. Even though Laurel is successful in ditching the lowly recruits originally assigned to her, Laurel can’t shake Dinah.

Dinah sits like a black cloud over Laurel’s head, sneaking exasperated glances when she thinks Laurel isn’t looking. Laurel notices, of course she notices. Dinah isn’t really someone she is able to ignore, not with the vexation so clearly radiating off the captain. 

Try as Laurel might to get work done throughout the day, inescapable annoyance reverberates through her. She generally considers herself pretty good at eliminating any and all emotion, so Laurel isn’t sure why she can’t snap out of this funk. 

Laurel manages a moment away from Dinah and attempts to get to the abandoned warehouse Diaz sequestered months ago. During her trip, she can’t get pull herself together. She’s pissy and fretted and, for some reason, worried, even though Laurel couldn’t care less about walking into danger. 

Dinah catches up, and Laurel’s aggravation only grows at being followed around.

She’s been spiraling out all day and there’s no reason why. Laurel really needs to get a grip.

Then Dinah calls Laurel a faker, a liar, a murderer (which she is, but she’s trying to be better), and it stings more than it should. Being a disappointment isn’t something Laurel is unfamiliar with, but being a disappointment to Dinah actually hurts. It’s like Dinah’s in her head. 

On a regular day, Laurel can take any feeling and put it in a vault, lock it down, where she doesn’t have to even think of it. But not this time. 

Laurel can’t suppress the reeling inside of her. She actually feels how much she lets Dinah down. 

Laurel doesn’t know how Dinah of all people got under her skin, how Dinah can suddenly read her or make her so unchecked. Laurel hates it, hates being this seen.

Whatever the reason, Dinah’s newfound fascination with Laurel turns out to be a good thing because Laurel needs the backup with the Silencer. 

Later that night, Laurel is motivated by some unrelenting force to explain herself to Dinah. To _apologize._ She doesn’t want forgiveness, doesn’t deserve it, but Dinah deserves not to be in pain and Laurel knows she is the one who caused so much of it. 

It’s uncharacteristic of Laurel to arrive at Dinah’s office filled with trepidation and say she’s sorry for hurting Vince. But she does it. While normally the hint of an apology would be acerbic on Laurel’s tongue, she doesn’t hate the way it feels this time. 

She’s been waiting for this for a while. It isn’t going to rectify the situation, nothing will ever undo past atrocities, but at least Laurel says her piece. 

As Laurel leaves Dinah’s office, it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of her lungs, and she struggles not to gasp for air. There’s an uncomfortable sensation in the back of her throat making it hard to swallow, and it takes everything in her being not to let out a sob.

Laurel digs her fingernails into her forearm until the feeling goes away.

After that, Laurel keeps finding herself in situations with people she can’t escape. Despite her desire to not get close with anyone, Felicity is an unstoppable force when it comes to initiating friendships. Or, well, when it comes to indoctrinating Laurel into torturing killers and keeping secrets and saving Oliver from prison. Somehow that transitions into something resembling friendship.

And not just with Felicity, but with Dinah as well.

Dinah sits in court as Laurel defends Oliver. There’s no real need for Dinah to be there, and yet she is. After the ruling goes south, Dinah is the one who stops Laurel from killing a judge. 

Laurel’s pissed at the interruption, until Dinah says she knows Laurel has a heart. Until Dinah says she believes Laurel has changed. Although Laurel’s gut reaction is to tell Dinah to stay away from her, it changes things. Laurel replays the conversation in her mind for the next two nights.

She doesn’t know why Dinah’s belief in her means so much. 

They move forward. 

Within the confines of their respective jobs, Dinah and Laurel cross paths as it relates to Emiko Queen and Brett Collins. They start to see each other in the real world as well. 

It starts small. Felicity extends an invitation to them both for wine night, and Laurel and Dinah discover they’re more alike than they might want to be. It isn’t quite a friendship, more tolerance built on mutual meta-human abilities and sordid pasts than anything else, but it’s closer to friendship than anything Laurel has experienced in years.

The more time Laurel spends building relationships, the more she’s filled with uninhibited emotions.

It’s as if she’s a teenager, all heightened feelings that hit at inopportune times. She’s also worn down, feels like someone who really needs a break from all the shit life keeps dishing out. Laurel will be having a completely normal day at the office when, without warning, she’ll be ready to choke out an intern or on the verge of tears, and she knows, she _knows_ something is up. 

(There’s a faint voice in the back of Laurel’s head who whispers _soulmate,_ and Laurel rolls her eyes at it.)

Laurel does what she always does and pushes it away. 

She’s never been one too cognizant of her own emotions, and Laurel isn’t about to become that person now. She focuses on other things. Working as a lawyer and keeping to herself and stopping Felicity, sweet, talkative, flustered Felicity, from killing someone in cold blood. 

Felicity, Laurel quickly learns, is far too curious for her own good. She never seems to have bad intentions, yet always brings up the perfect question to unlock the parts of yourself you’d rather keep hidden. 

It’s a random Tuesday when Felicity invites Laurel on a friend date to try a new gourmet pastry shop and inquires, innocently, “What do your tattoos mean?”

Laurel is immediately defensive. “What do you mean?” 

“I, uh, your tattoos?” Felicity makes a nondescript gesture, somewhere between bemused and excited, and elaborates, “Laurel, you know, the original Laurel, she didn’t have any tattoos, perfect skin, I swear, but you have some and most people get tattoos that have meaning to them so…”

Laurel takes a deep breath, tries not to be panicked, because Felicity isn’t launching some personal attack or an interrogation with means to discover her deepest secrets. It’s just a question about some of her tattoos. 

Laurel describes them. Some have no meaning, like the thin band on her left forearm. Others, like the various words and images on her wrists and hands, Laurel opens up about a bit more. She doesn’t consciously realize she avoids the soulmate tattoo until Felicity takes it upon herself to physically poke the bird over her triceps.

There’s a quick second, barely a blip, where Laurel considers telling Felicity about soulmates and bonds and identical marks. If anyone would believe her, it would be the inspirited woman in front of her. Felicity would most likely be fascinated. 

The Felicity Smoak of Earth-2 is probably halfway to developing a tracking algorithm to match people with their soulmate without even having to meet.

When Laurel actually considers telling Felicity, it sounds preposterous. 

Completely batshit. 

Not that Felicity doesn’t already deal with people coming back from the dead and government conspiracies and time travel. But soulmates? People destined to be together? It’s far fetched even for the life Felicity lives. 

Plus, Laurel has no idea who has the twin tattoo, if they’re even alive or a decent person, so the point is moot. 

Even _if_ Felicity took Laurel’s word for it, it’s not worth it to dangle the knowledge of soulmates like a prize carrot because Felicity would become obsessed with trying to identify Laurel’s other half. Laurel doesn’t need to be great at friendship to know it’s how Felicity would react. 

Instead, Laurel makes up some easy explanation, something about a canary she had as a kid and how it reminds her of her sister. Felicity doesn’t question it, but Laurel makes a conscious effort to start wearing even more jackets. She doesn’t need more people noticing the tattoo. God forbid someone knows who wears its match. That is something Laurel would really, really rather not deal with.

Unfortunately, Laurel’s efforts to hide the symbol come a little too late because Felicity herself is the one who stumbles upon the matching mark. 

Felicity has gotten pretty apt at working to the sounds of the salmon ladder clanking, bo staffs colliding, and dummies being beaten within an inch of their metaphorical life. The background noise is practically soothing at this point. 

Felicity hardly even notices anyone else is in there while she works, until a sharp inhale is coupled with, “Oh, fuck me,” followed by the noise of a punching bag being hit in frustration and not as a workout tool.

Felicity swivels in her chair to be met with the sight of Dinah, wincing and rubbing the heel of her palm into the base of her spine. Felicity is immediately concerned.

“What happened?”

“I, fuck, I think I just pulled something. Somehow.” Dinah is shaking her head in obvious irritation. “This is stupid. I can’t believe I just hurt myself training.” 

Felicity makes her way over to the equipment and asks, “Do you want me to check it out?”

“What, are you a doctor now?” 

“First of all, that’s rude. It’s not like I haven’t seen Oliver with every injury under the sun. I’ve even patched some of them up.” Dinah shoots Felicity a look that says she doesn’t really believe Felicity to be great at healing injuries. Which, fair, Felicity is a little queasy when it comes to needles, but there’s no need for this level of incredulity. “I can at least tell you if there’s a bruise or something.”

Dinah capitulates and turns her back to Felicity, allows her to tug lightly at the waistband of Dinah’s training leggings in search of any significant signs of an injury. Dinah is pretty sure she just needs some ice and a day or two off, but better to ensure there aren't any glaring problems. 

Felicity hates to prove Dinah right, but she really isn’t a doctor and definitely cannot tell if she’s seriously messed up her back. She does, however, notice something else that requires commenting.

“I didn’t know you have a tattoo! When did you get that?”

Dinah whips herself around, shock evident all over her face. “I don’t have a tattoo.”

“Uh, yeah you do. Lower back, bird with its wings open. I’m not surprised I haven’t seen it, I mean, probably only people who see you naked see it. Not that I’m thinking about seeing you naked but--” Dinah gapes. “Okay, not the point. But, tattoo, lower back, I didn’t take you for the type.”

Dinah cranes her neck back, fishing at her waistband to see if there is a tattoo. 

Clear as day, a few inches wide, is exactly what Felicity described. Except Dinah _doesn’t_ have any tattoos, hasn’t ever put ink on her own body, so that there is anything permanently etched into her skin is blowing Dinah’s mind.

Felicity is still talking. “Come to think of it, it kind of looks like the canary on the back of Laurel’s arm.”

As if finding surprise artwork on her body wasn’t confusing enough, the thought that somehow it matches with a tattoo on Laurel’s body is almost enough to throw Dinah over the edge. 

“No it doesn’t,” Dinah proclaims. The last thing she needs is a matching tattoo with Black Siren.

Felicity makes a move to catch another glimpse of Dinah’s back, but is swatted away by Dinah’s hands. Felicity is nothing but relentless when she wants to make a point though. 

“It looks _exactly_ like Laurel’s, the more I think about it. Look,” Felicity explains, fiddling through her phone until she finds a photo that proves her point, “Try and tell me that isn’t the same tattoo as yours. Did you guys secretly go off to some tattoo parlor together?”

“Definitely not.” Dinah attempts to shut down the conversation, but her mind is reeling. _What the fuck?_

“I swear, it’s identical. That’s _super_ weird. Maybe you went to the same artist somewhere?”

In a move to get as far away from this conversation as quickly as possible, Dinah darts around Felicity, only to send a flash of pain through her spine. With a grimace, Dinah retreats at half the pace she wishes she was going. 

This doesn’t make any sense.

Dinah has a tattoo. One she’s never seen before. (And she swears she looks in the mirror so how she hasn’t noticed this is absurd, but not as absurd as having an actual tattoo on her lower back that appeared without Dinah’s knowledge.) As much as it pains Dinah to admit, this one _is_ a spitting image of the bird that adorns Laurel’s right arm. 

By the time Dinah makes it from the bunker to her car, the phone is already ringing. 

“What the fuck, Laurel.”

“Wow, no time for pleasantries, I see.”

“Seriously, what the fuck?”

Dinah can practically hear the eye roll accompanying Laurel’s sardonic answer, “Hi, Laurel. How are you today? Oh, me? I’m doing alright. Hurt my back somehow, but otherwise--”

Laurel’s sarcasm is cut off by an abrasive huff from Dinah’s end. 

“Why do we have matching tattoos?”

“What?” As far as Laurel knows, Dinah doesn’t have any tattoos. And even if she did, how would they match Laurel’s? It’s not like they’re using the same artist, considering hers is on a different planet.

“Did you drug me or something? Mark my body with the same bird tattoo on your arm?”

It takes Laurel a beat too long to realize what tattoo Dinah is actually referring to. This cannot be happening. Her stomach drops all the way down to the floor. 

_Fuck._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_.

Dinah cannot be her fucking soulmate. There’s no way. 

Laurel attempts to get a grip on the situation. “Dinah, you realize you sound crazy, right? Matching tattoos? I’m from another Earth.” 

Maybe there’s still a chance it isn’t actually the same tattoo, just a similar design. 

Laurel’s never been religious, but right about now she’s praying to every deity that could possibly exist. She’s crossing her fingers and knocking on wood and hoping with every fiber of her being this isn’t true. 

“I know you know what I’m talking about. I’ve never even been to a tattoo shop before, but suddenly there’s a tattoo right above my ass and it's identical to the one you keep covered most of the time. How did it get there?”

Emotions tornado through Laurel. First panic, then a combination of confusion, disgust, and fear. Laurel knows not all of the feelings are her own, which only makes the reality of the situation sink in quicker. 

“As much as I love marking people up, I also love consent. So no, I didn’t drug you and make you get a tattoo against your will. Jesus, I’m not a monster.” Laurel tries to maintain the detached attitude she’s known for, but everything is one second away from going to hell in a handbasket. 

Dinah really doesn’t know what to think. All she knows is she’s confused out of her mind and has no idea what to make of the situation. “So then how did I get it?”

“What am I, your babysitter? How would I know where you got a tattoo?”

“Laurel.” Dinah says her name like a warning. 

Laurel screws her eyes shut. She can feel, actually feel, how deadly serious Dinah is right now. Laurel frantically searches for an excuse that will set the record straight, but none come to mind. 

There’s a pause, one long enough for Dinah to start simmering. “Stop stalling. What’s going on?”

Laurel’s throat is dry. There is no way this is going to be an easy conversation, especially because Dinah barely trusts Laurel in a usual setting. 

Saying the truth of this? 

Laurel prepares for disaster.

If this were anyone else, anyone else on this stupid Earth, Laurel might be able to ignore it. She could come up with some excuse or just bolt. But of course it’s Dinah. Of course it’s the one person who managed to sink her claws in and rattle Laurel’s cage. 

Of course it’s one of two people Laurel can almost consider a friend.

It feels like an eon later when Laurel finally whispers, “You’re never going to believe me.”

Dinah hasn’t heard this tone from Laurel. Dinah’s used to her being completely self-assured, demanding, and, frankly, a little patronizing. “Try me.”

Half an hour later, Laurel has left the office and is anxiously pacing a hole in her floor. By the time Dinah arrives at Laurel’s apartment, Laurel is pouring her third glass of brandy. 

Dinah storms in and, in lieu of a greeting, demands, “Well?”

A glass slides to Dinah from across the island. The way Laurel looks at Dinah implores her to throw back the whole thing, but Dinah isn’t really in the mood. She pushes the glass back towards Laurel. 

“It’s three in the afternoon. I don’t want a drink.”

Laurel, with a shake of her head, says, “Oh, you’ll need one,” before she moves the glass back to Dinah and walks away to plant herself on the sofa.

Dinah follows Laurel with a suspicious eye. She doesn’t know what to make of Laurel in such a state. Even more so, Dinah doesn’t know what to make of herself

There’s this swirling sensation in her gut, one of apprehension and guilt. It feels like the time Dinah was eight and broke her mom’s favorite vase. She managed to hide it for all of an afternoon before her mother forced the truth out. Why she feels the same way now, Dinah isn’t sure. It’s not like she has some big reveal to make. 

Laurel curls her knees to her chest, and it’s so unorthodox, Dinah’s unease skyrockets even higher. Dinah gives in, swallows the drink in one go. It seems like she’ll need it. 

She takes up residence across from Laurel, not sitting, but towering over the couch. “What the hell is going on?”

“I want to preface this by saying I’m not fucking with you. This isn’t some joke.”

Dinah raises her thumbs to spur Laurel on. 

Laurel speaks slowly and methodically, and it’s enough for Dinah to swallow back her instant defensive nature and actually listen to whatever Laurel has to say.

“Earth-2 is a lot different than here.”

Dinah cocks an eyebrow, but it’s more in annoyance than curiosity. She wants Laurel to just get to the point. 

“So I’ve heard. Parallel universe, all the right handed people are lefties and all that.”

Laurel nods. “It’s not just that though. There’s this… thing, this predestined thing, that you don’t have here.” 

“Will you just spit it out already?”

Laurel abandons her post on the couch in exchange for walking around the room. Dinah isn’t surprised, Laurel isn’t exactly the type to talk up to someone. 

“We have soulmates.”

Dinah snorts. It’s a fair enough reaction, the whole thing seems like a whacky legend and anything but the truth.

“What, you expect me to believe that? I thought you said you weren’t going to fuck with me, Laurel.”

“I’m _not_.” 

There’s something in Laurel’s tone, an earnestness that’s never been present before, and it almost seems like she’s begging Dinah to believe her. For half a second there, Dinah considers suspending her disbelief, but it passes quickly and she goes back to skepticism. 

“So what is it, huh? Red string tied to your pinkies? The first thing they say to you is tattooed on your body?” 

That gives Dinah’s taunting a momentary pause. Tattoos are hitting a little close to home.

Laurel can’t say she didn’t expect this level of suspicion from Dinah. Laurel’s arms cross defensively and all walls go up. She hates how rejected she feels by Dinah’s response. Knowing it’s because they’re linked makes it even worse. 

Dinah must detect the shift in mood though, because her eyes narrow and they grow a little softer. Dinah’s a lot less adversarial as she states, “You’re serious.”

The relief Laurel feels is immense and she hates it even more. She nods despite herself. 

By now, Dinah has found a spot on the couch and she pats the cushion next to her. Laurel is hesitant to comply, but ultimately does.

Dinah wants to know more, but has reservations about asking anything else. Somehow this ties into her and the tattoo on her back, and even though Dinah’s pretty sure she knows what this means, she doesn't want to. If she never asks she can at least live in blissful ignorance. 

Dinah accepts defeat and says, “What does this have to do with me?”

Laurel so doesn’t want to spell this out for Dinah of all people. 

“We get soul marks. When you meet your soulmate, matching tattoos appear.” 

Of all the details Dinah should be caught up on, the thing that strikes her as craziest is not the concept of soulmates. It’s not the ink on her body that appeared without choice. It’s how long ago Dinah actually met Laurel in person. “Wait, has this been on me since Lian Yu? How the _fuck_ didn’t I notice it?”

Laurel laughs and it’s almost genuine. She stays silent until Dinah breaks the quiet. 

“So I’m your soulmate?”

“Yeah.”

“From another Earth?”

“Seems that way.”

Dinah doesn’t know how that’s possible, but it doesn’t seem worth it to argue. She has a matching tattoo with Laurel. It appeared against her will. To top it off, it’s a canary, the symbolism of which isn’t lost on Dinah. And supposedly it means she’s Laurel’s soulmate. 

“Okay, well, how the hell do I get rid of it?” Dinah gestures towards her lower back.

“You can’t.”

Dinah isn’t going to accept that. “I’m getting rid of it. Laser removal, burn it off if that’s what it takes.” Dinah really, _really_ doesn’t want to be linked to Laurel in this way.

“You _can’t_. Nothing you do will remove it.” Now Dinah’s arms cross, as if that will shut down this whole thing. “Look, you don’t have to choose your soulmate and be with them. People date all the time on Earth-2.”

Dinah nods, as if to say _good_ , but Laurel isn’t done yet. “You don’t have to choose your soulmate, but most people end up with them. Call it fate or whatever, but the universe will always bring you back together. And even if you do manage to get away, there’s a soul connection.”

“Soul connection?” 

Laurel explains what she knows, which admittedly isn’t much, since Laurel has spent much of her life ignoring the existence of soulmates. 

She tells Dinah of shared emotions, where regardless of the distance, two partners will feel the same. Whether it’s distress or embarrassment or happiness, there’s an emotional transfer. And it isn’t limited to just emotions, but pain. Physical injuries, aches, bruises, will hit your soulmate as if they experienced it themselves. The connection only grows stronger the longer you ignore it.

Accepting your soulmate bond is supposed to be the most rewarding feeling in the world. Something akin to seeing color for the first time

At least, that’s what Laurel has heard. 

Dinah remains taut in her posture during the course of the conversation, but she turns her facing towards Laurel to give her her full attention. By the end, Dinah is entirely unsettled. What she wouldn’t do to go back a few hours, before she heard all of this.

She’s really glad she took Laurel’s advice on the drink. Too bad she needs a few more to swallow the reality of this. 

“You said we don’t have to choose to be with our soulmate, right?” Dinah asks. When Laurel nods in confirmation, Dinah comes to a decision. “Good. That’s what we’re doing. We’re choosing not to be together.”

“Yeah.” Laurel sounds more confident than she feels and she hopes Dinah can’t tell how dejected she really is. “Yeah,” Laurel repeats, more to convince herself than anything else.

In the short time since Laurel got confirmation of Dinah being her soulmate, she’s already gotten her hopes up. As much as Laurel never thought a soulmate was in the cards for her, especially not after leaving Earth-2, as much as she never expected it to be Dinah of all people, Laurel’s imagination has pieced together hopes and dreams that she hasn’t contemplated since she was a little girl. She has to work double time to shut them down.

It’s no wonder Dinah is resistant. Soulmates are a thing of fiction to her. 

Even if they weren’t, why would she want someone like Laurel? Someone who caused her immense pain and trauma. Someone who tried to kill her, for God’s sake. Laurel isn’t surprised in the slightest.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. 

It’s for the best they choose not to be together. Dinah doesn’t need Laurel influencing her life and causing more chaos. 

That evening, Dinah stands with her back to the mirror and wonders how the hell she missed this. She half expects some shock to travel through her fingers as she traces the outline of the tattoo, but all she feels is her own skin. 

Soulmates are a hard enough pill to swallow without hers being Laurel. Because Dinah’s feelings about Laurel are… complicated, to say the least. 

They were adversaries. Complete and total enemies. She killed a man that Dinah loved with all of her heart, and even if Dinah saw the hesitation before Laurel killed Vince, it doesn’t change what she did. Just because Laurel apologized doesn’t mean Dinah can ever fully forgive her.

Despite that, Dinah _has_ been growing closer to Laurel. They’ve been in cahoots, working together in something resembling a partnership, and Dinah does believe there’s some good in her. 

She hates how they manage to work well together. More than that, she hates how they’re supposed to be together. (How this ink, at least, means they’re supposed to be together. In some parallel universe, maybe.)

Dinah doesn’t know if this is because Laurel and the Dinah on Earth-2 were meant to be and it just transferred, or if Laurel is truly matched with this incarnation of herself. Laurel had no idea when Dinah asked earlier, but it doesn’t seem to matter. She’s the one donning a new tattoo, not some hypothetical other Dinah who isn’t her.

A fucking canary tattoo. It couldn’t be more on the nose. Someone up there really has a sick sense of humor.

Even if Dinah believed in soulmates (which, at the beginning of the day she would have staked her life on their nonexistence), the whole idea of sharing pain and emotions is beyond the bounds of possibility. Dinah doesn’t foresee that coming true in this reality, tattoo be damned. 

She’s satisfied enough to try and ignore this whole thing.

It’s not like Dinah has been dating a lot anyway; she doesn't need a romantic partner. The last person it’s going to be is Laurel. 

Dinah drop kicks her feelings to the other side of the universe and directs her attention back to what’s important: protecting the city, leading her cadets, and _not_ thinking about supposed soulmates from other worlds.

Or, well, that’s the plan. 

Things have been going great, Dinah likes to think. 

She manages to avoid deep, constructive conversations with Laurel for three weeks. Dinah engineers her schedule so they only cross paths incidentally in the courthouse, and, baring the times Dinah drops her towel in front of the mirror, she can almost forget her link with Laurel.

Only almost though, because inexplicable things start to occur. Things Dinah would love to ignore, but that are becoming harder and harder to pretend aren’t real. 

The first time Dinah takes notice of the events, she’s in her apartment. She’s sitting on the couch late at night, reviewing a case file, when her shin is suddenly on fire. It’s not an injury feeling, more a _I ran into a piece of furniture because it’s dark_ feeling. Except Dinah’s relaxing, not playing bumper cars with her legs.

When Dinah encounters Laurel the next morning, she glances down. A few inches below Laurel’s right knee is a bruise, purpling in the same spot Dinah had to put ice on the night before. 

Dinah tries to convince herself it’s a coincidence.

The universe is dead set on proving it certainly isn’t a coincidence. A few evenings later, Dinah is in bed, trying to fall asleep, when her big toe starts throbbing. As if she stubbed it. But she didn’t. 

_Laurel must’ve-_

Dinah blockades her train of thought before it can jump the tracks. She doesn’t want to entertain the explanation on the tip of her tongue. That would mean Laurel’s soulmate stories are true. 

(She has a bird stamped above her tailbone. Dinah already knows it’s true.)

But if sharing pain and transferring emotions are true, then fate trying to bring them together is true. That’s not going to happen. 

Unexplained phenomena keep on popping up, but Dinah is quick to come up with an explanation for each incident, until it happens in front of someone else. 

Felicity is at the precinct, trying to convince Dinah she should definitely be allowed to take home evidence on an active case. Dinah lends half an ear to the conversation, focuses mostly on pouring herself a new cup of coffee. In the blink of an eye, the pot is shattered on the floor, coffee is traveling down the caulk between the tiles, and Dinah’s grabbing her left wrist in an effort to quell the spasming pain traveling up her arm.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Felicity dashes to grab a dish towel and makes quick work of laying it on the dispersing liquid and shards of glass. Dinah nods, her jaw dropped open in shock. “What the frak was that?”

Mouth still agape, Dinah chokes out, “I, uh, muscle spasm?” It’s not convincing in the slightest. 

As soon as the offending mess is cleaned, Dinah calls Laurel. She’s been able to pass off the stubbed toes and minuscule injuries as annoyances, but this one requires conversation. 

Laurel answers with a muffled string of words Dinah can’t make out.

“What are you doing, Laurel? Why can’t I hear you?”

After a few seconds of shuffling, Laurel answers, “I was putting together some ice. You’re on speaker.”

“Ice?”

Laurel sighs, “I sprained my wrist at the gym.” 

Of course she did.

It’s all Dinah can do to keep herself from yelling at Laurel for being so irresponsible. “Yeah, well, because of your stunt I just dropped a pot of coffee and it shattered halfway across the precinct.” 

Laurel offers up an apology, a genuine one. 

She knew it would happen eventually, knew Dinah would start to feel her pain and emotions, Laurel just thought it would take more time. After all, Dinah’s hell bent on keeping her distance. If any woman is stubborn enough to stave off the soulmate bond, it’s Dinah Drake.

“Just be careful, okay?” 

Laurel nods, despite Dinah not being able to see her. 

Just as Laurel is about to end the call, Dinah gives one last command. “And turn on the goddamn light at night so you can see whatever you keep bumping your legs into. I’m tired of my shin being sore.”

Laurel never claimed to be great at following directions. 

Not a day later, Laurel’s aiming to get water at three in the morning and runs shin first into the coffee table she never quite manages to avoid. 

She knows Dinah is pissed from miles away. Anger boils inside of Laurel, and she’s positive it’s because she woke Dinah from her slumber. Laurel grabs her phone and waits for the impending lecture.

“Hi there, Sleeping Beauty,” she greets Dinah, her voice laced with faux authenticity. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stop knocking around my shins?”

“I’m sorry, your shins?”

There’s a scuffling noise from Dinah’s end of the phone, then footsteps. Hard footsteps. 

Stomps, really. Like Dinah’s pissed and she wants Laurel to know it.

(Dinah is and she does.)

Laurel thinks she hears something metal, a sword being unsheathed or a knife sliding out from the block. She doesn’t have time to process the sound before there’s a fast slice through her left palm, right across the belly of Laurel’s thumb.

“What the hell was that?! Did you just stab me?” Laurel’s palm throbs, and, coupled with an already sprained wrist, she’s not sure how she’s going to use her left hand tomorrow.

Dryly, Dinah replies, “It was more of a cut actually.”

“Are you kidding me? What is your problem?” 

“My _problem_ , counselor, is that I can’t get any fucking sleep because of your stupid soul connection. Start being more considerate or I’ll dish it out twice as hard.” 

Before Laurel can fabricate a retort, the line is dead. 

Laurel should be pissed at the aching in her hand. Any time Dinah moves it for the next week, Laurel is going to feel the aftermath. Something about it though, about Dinah’s acknowledgement of their connection, about how Laurel now has definitive proof of the bond, makes her smile. Laurel feels something on par with admiration towards Dinah’s combative nature.

Across the city, Dinah perceives a remote swell of pride. She falls back asleep with a satisfied grin on her face. 

It keeps happening. 

Dinah haphazardly grabs a burning bowl from the microwave. 

Laurel bites her cuticles when she’s stressed.

One of them will be annoyed, and the other will sense it and will send back a taunting feeling or soothing vibes or a metaphorical eye roll. 

Dinah stops trying to fight the connection, to a certain degree. Because, whether or not she expects it, her and Laurel start to grow closer.

It’s a natural progression. Police captain and district attorney work hand in hand in office. They’re a good team, even if Dinah doesn’t want to admit it. Gradually, it becomes less business. More pleasure. 

Calls that start at the office become late night conversations. Scheduled meetings transition to lunch dates that become office nights over Big Belly Burger. The talks they share are no longer limited by professional boundaries.

Sure, there’s about six layers of snark Dinah has to peel away before she gets to anything close to genuine, but she does. Laurel is almost okay with something adjacent to vulnerability. 

Almost. 

Dinah wakes up, not for the first time, in a cold sweat. Her heart is racing one hundred and fifty beats per minute and there’s an ache in her chest deeper than the Mariana Trench. 

Laurel just had a nightmare.

Dinah’s throat bobs and eyes sting, and she resorts to clamping a hand over her mouth so no sobs escape. Dinah’s heart seizes with grief that isn’t her own. It’s Laurel’s.

Laurel is up crying again, and it makes Dinah want to as well. 

She doesn’t mention it the next time they see each other. They never do. 

It’s too personal to know Laurel is thrust from sleep by dreams so terrorizing she sobs in the middle of the night. It’s intimate, being in each other’s heads this way. Not quite mind reading, but only one step down. 

It humanizes Laurel. Not that Laurel hasn’t managed to do that on her own. The more time Dinah spends with her, the more she notices her counterpart isn’t actually bad. She’s a lot more likeable than first impressions lead Dinah to believe.

Laurel might not have a strong moral compass (not an ethical one, at least), but she’s set in her convictions. It’s hard for Dinah not to relate.

Especially when Dinah knows Laurel feels deeply. Feels so deeply. Grief and sadness and pain and regret. Dinah’s surprised Laurel doesn’t succumb to her emotions.

The way she keeps moving forward, attempts to turn herself into someone good, is admirable. 

Dinah probably shouldn’t think this way about Laurel. 

It's late at night, when Dinah lays on her bed, phone pressed into her ear, that she entertains an idea: maybe this thing with Laurel is different than regular friendship. Sure, Dinah has close friends in Dig and Rene and Curtis, but Dinah never finds herself fighting through drowsiness to keep the conversation going with any of them. She doesn’t make up excuses to see them, doesn’t think of them without prompting throughout the day.

Of course, Dinah doesn’t share an emotional and metaphysical connection with them, so maybe that’s why.

It’s Laurel, Dinah reminds herself, as if that’s some sort of reason why this couldn’t be something other than friendship. As if that’s not the exact reason it _could_ be something different.

Once again, Dinah wakes up in a cold sweat. This time it’s the result of her own dream, one Dinah wishes she didn’t remember. Tears are already streaming down her face. There’s no stopping the convulsive gasps that wrack through Dinah’s body. 

Laurel’s awake, of course she’s awake. Dinah knows because Laurel is trying to soothe her, but that only makes things worse. 

Laurel can sense it. Dinah’s anxiety goes through the ceiling, and everything Laurel tries to assuage the sensation only pumps it higher.

Before Laurel can think better of it, she’s dialed number one on her favorites list. She doesn’t know when Dinah earned the spot.

“Hey.” Dinah’s voice is raw. 

Laurel repeats the greeting, sounding far more tender than she has any right to. 

When Dinah tells Laurel she had a nightmare, Laurel wishes she was there to hug her. Laurel is anything but a hugger, but there’s no mistaking how broken Dinah sounds. 

In lieu of a hug, Laurel says, “I know.” 

“Oh.” Dinah is silent for a beat. Then, “I feel your nightmares too.” 

Laurel doesn’t have a good response to that. She figured as much, but she still feels exposed. They’re already on the phone though, so it might be worth it to try opening up. Or at least see if Dinah wants to.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Want to talk about yours?” Dinah shoots back. 

They sit in an uncomfortable stalemate for a minute, and Dinah wishes she hadn’t said anything. She wants to open up to Laurel, even though she was the subject of the dream that a few minutes ago had Dinah gasping for breath. Dinah wonders if it's a soulmate thing that has her almost ready to bare her soul. 

“It was about that night. That night that, uh,” Dinah’s voice cracks, “Vinny died. And you, you--” 

Dinah cuts herself off. She thought she wanted to tell Laurel, but she can’t. She can’t tell her this. 

As close as they’re getting, as much as Dinah is starting to feel some sort of alliance with Laurel, she’s not telling her this. Not telling Laurel about a dream that started as the worst night of Dinah’s life.

Laurel was screaming in Vinny’s ear, and Dinah could see the light drain from his eyes. Rather than see what happened next though, the dream flipped, and suddenly she was kissing Laurel. She was kissing Laurel, and it felt so right. 

Dinah woke in blind panic because she should hate herself for feeling okay with the thought of kissing Laurel.

Dinah _does_ hate herself for thinking it.

Laurel killed Vince, and there’s nothing in the universe that would make that okay. 

Dinah doesn’t know how to reconcile her guilt at caring for Laurel with her guilt at not preventing Vince’s death. All she is is confused, and mad, and Dinah really can’t believe she was about to reveal it all to Laurel. 

“Dinah?” 

Laurel thought Dinah was about to open up to her, but now there’s an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of Laurel’s stomach and it’s gnawing away at her. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but Laurel knows she doesn’t like whatever it is. 

“Actually, I’m really tired. I’m going back to bed. Sorry I woke you.”

“Wait, what?” But Dinah’s phone is already off by the time Laurel finishes her sentence. 

It takes almost two hours for Laurel to fall back asleep, and once she does, her dreams are filled with nothing but Dinah. 

Dinah’s avoiding Laurel. She’s been avoiding Laurel since the night of the nightmare. 

Dodging Laurel is something easy to do in person. Dinah rearranges her schedule so she takes the night shift, screens her calls so Laurel gets sent to voicemail. In person, Dinah manages to keep her distance.

It’s harder to do incorporeally.

It seems like Laurel is set on capturing Dinah’s attention. Dinah keeps getting these jabs of worry and stress and frustration that she’s sure are directed at her and not anything else in Laurel’s life.

Laurel isn’t technically in Dinah’s head, but she may as well be.

Dinah takes a vacation. Not a long term leave, but she has unused sick days built up from the past few years and she needs some space. As if distance will impede the feelings growing inside her.

Dinah winds up in Central City at a hole-in-the-wall diner she used to visit after long shifts when she first started at the department. The first time Dinah ever really talked to Vince was at this place. They shared a pot of watered down coffee at 6 A.M. and Dinah learned just enough about him to become intrigued.

Sitting here, on the same ripped aquamarine stools, everything is so different. 

Dinah takes a sip of coffee that’s too weak and wonders how they still haven’t figured out how to brew proper strength after all these years. 

Being here puts things in perspective. It reminds Dinah who she is and what she stands for. 

It also reminds her how much she’s changed. 

When Dinah first left Central City, she was overrun with grief. Fixated on vengeance for what happened to Vince. She hardly recognizes that person now. 

When Dinah thinks about who she used to be, before she became the Black Canary, Dinah realizes she seems a lot like Black Siren. 

_You just can’t help yourself, can you?_ Dinah criticizes herself. Try as she might to avoid it, all her thoughts keep going back to Laurel. They have for a while now. 

The thing is, Dinah used to hyperfixate on her hatred for Laurel. She was certain Laurel was nothing but a villain who deserved a torturous death. Then death wishes morphed into tolerance with a side of mistrust. Now though?

Now it isn’t mistrust. The opposite, actually. Dinah _trusts_ Laurel, wholeheartedly. She doesn’t know if it’s because of the way their relationship has developed to the point of being friends or if it’s all on this soulmate thing or what. 

Whatever the reason, it scares the shit out of her. 

Dinah hasn’t cared this deeply for someone since the first time with Vince. Even after he came back, their relationship was rocky and unsettled and filled with obstacles. But the first time, it was just love. 

Dinah’s afraid to think it feels the same with Laurel. 

She doesn’t even know when the transition happened. 

Somehow, somewhen, they grew closer. Dinah and Laurel talk all the time. They justify seeing each other at work when it isn’t required. Dinah calls Laurel up after every mission and informs her of all the dumb decisions Oliver makes just because she knows Laurel will get a kick out of it. 

When Dinah isn’t with Laurel, she misses her. 

It’s stupid. Dinah’s feelings are stupid.

She keeps telling herself that whatever this thing is, it’s not love. It’s the result of an incomprehensible force uniting them. A stupid tattoo and a fucked up connection conflating everything way past where it actually should be.

Dinah knows it doesn’t matter though. Even if this is all because of some metaphysical bond they share, it’s real and here to stay. Try as Dinah might to blame the fact that she can sense Laurel’s emotions, it doesn’t make her own any less legitimate. 

It’s sitting in this diner, hours away from her home, Dinah finally admits to herself that she has feelings for Laurel. Feelings Dinah doesn’t want.

She supposes it was inevitable. Who could resist the temptation of someone like Laurel in their sphere? 

The problem is now Dinah’s fallen for Laurel. What the hell is she supposed to do? 

“I’m glad you’re back.”

Dinah gives a close lipped smile before attempting to step around Laurel. 

Laurel blocks her path. “Where were you?”

“Just needed a vacation is all,” Dinah answers. She keeps her eyes pointedly downcast so as not to meet Laurel’s.

“Oh.” 

Laurel yields to Dinah and lets her pass. Dinah clearly isn’t interested in having a conversation with her, and Laurel isn’t in the mood for Dinah’s rejection. The eight days without answering texts or calls were more than enough. 

As Dinah hurries down the hallway, Laurel calls after her, “Are you just going to keep avoiding me?”

Her words strike a chord. Laurel feels it in her own chest.

Dinah keeps avoiding Laurel. Laurel keeps feeling hurt. 

Loathe as she is to admit it, Laurel has grown accustomed to Dinah and her company.

(Maybe more than accustomed, if she’s being honest with herself.)

Maybe Laurel misses Dinah. 

Misses making a borderline inappropriate comment, just to make Dinah smile. Misses the way Dinah rolls her eyes at Laurel and couples it with a warning glance that has no heat. Misses knowing about Dinah’s day. 

Even though Laurel can feel her, it’s different without talking. Whatever has Dinah keeping her distance, whatever shook her so badly, Laurel wishes she knew. There’s nothing she wouldn’t give to know. 

Laurel’s never before desired to take away someone’s pain like she does now. She’s never wanted to be close with someone the way she does now.

So, okay, Laurel definitely misses Dinah.

The realization puts her in a royally terrible mood. 

At one point, Laurel snaps at a secretary who deigns to ask if she has any plans for the weekend. Later that afternoon, Laurel notices mascara smudged down her face. Laurel buys her subordinate an apology coffee to make up for her behavior, only because she knows it’s what Dinah would do.

Laurel’s heart feels a little emptier from not talking to Dinah. Dinah changed her and made her want to be better and now she won’t so much as have a conversation. 

Laurel would be bitter about it if she wasn’t so crestfallen.

She wants Dinah’s attention. Laurel makes it her mission to get it.

Laurel starts with minuscule actions. Things just noticeable enough Dinah will feel them, but not severe enough to actually hurt. 

She “accidentally” slices open a finger with the vegetable peeler. Bites her nails a little too short. Goes extra hard at the gym so her entire body is stiff in the morning.

When there’s still no response, Laurel tries harder.

When she knows Dinah is in a meeting, Laurel pinches herself in that tender spot just distal to her armpit. She waits until Dinah is sure to be in bed at night, then goes on a dangerously fast motorcycle ride until she knows Dinah’s adrenaline is racing.

On said ride, Laurel accidentally wipes out. She gets road rash from her shoulder to her ankle, and Dinah still doesn’t reach out. 

Laurel calls her and it goes to voicemail.

“What did I do wrong, D? I wish you would just talk to me.” 

Dinah listens to the message and it keeps her up half the night. Just before she falls asleep, she shoots off a text to Laurel.

_It’s not you. It’s me._

Laurel reads it when she wakes up, and she snorts at the brevity. Her and Dinah were never dating, so why does it feel like a breakup text?

It’s Zoe who eventually calls Dinah out for her newfound bad attitude. Zoe is working hook kicks when she states, “You’ve been in a weird mood lately, Aunt Dinah.”

Dinah’s hands falter and drop slightly, giving Zoe perfect opportunity to land a kick to Dinah’s chest rather than her mitts. She staggers a few steps at the contact.

Zoe apologizes profusely and makes a dart towards the freezer for some peas, but Dinah hardly even feels where the strike landed. It’s not for lack of effort on Zoe’s part either, Dinah’s training is definitely doing her good because the girl can kick. 

Dinah’s more caught up by why Zoe thinks she’s been acting peculiar.

“I haven’t been in a weird mood lately,” Dinah argues, as Zoe tosses the peas her way.

Zoe answers with conviction. “Uh, yeah you have.” There’s a look in her eye that dares Dinah to try and deny it, and Dinah shakes her head at how much Zoe looks like her father. 

“Why do you say that?”

Zoe points out Dinah’s general distraction, the way she’s been snappy, how she keeps checking her phone for messages, but then when she gets a call, she ignores it. It’s been going on for weeks. 

“Nothing gets by you, kiddo.” 

The way Zoe rolls her eyes is filled with affection. “Seriously though, why are you being weird?”

They settle on the ground, Zoe cooling down while Dinah holds the icy compress to her chest. Dinah wonders, briefly, if Laurel feels the blow too. As Dinah corrects Zoe’s posture in a stretch, she contemplates how to answer Zoe’s question. 

“I have this… friend who I’m kind of in a fight with.”

“What’s the fight about?”

Because it isn’t actually a fight, Dinah doesn’t have an answer. There was no fight, she just pulled away because they were getting too close for comfort. Dinah withdrew for fear of her own feelings. 

“Grown up stuff.”

When Zoe rolls her eyes this time, it’s in general annoyance. “You know, you can’t ask me for advice and then not tell me the full story.”

Dinah points out she never asked Zoe for advice, but Zoe waves her off. She waits expectantly for Dinah to elaborate. 

“There wasn’t really a fight. I distanced myself from her and I hurt her feelings. Now we aren’t talking.”

“Why’d you distance yourself?”

Dinah shoots Zoe a look saying she’s pushing her luck by asking. 

“You should just apologize,” Zoe offers up. And Dinah knows she could, but she owes Laurel an explanation and the explanation involves feelings and that requires vulnerability and a level of intimacy Dinah is okay with only in theory.

“It’s not that simple.” 

“Sounds like you’re making it complicated.”

Dinah doesn’t know when Zoe started making so much sense. 

The conversation shifts to thoughts on Zoe’s hockey team, but Dinah sits heavy on Zoe’s words. She doesn’t know that she’s ready to have the conversation with Laurel yet, but she should.

Dinah calls Laurel that night and tells her, without a greeting, “The dream was about the night Vinny died, but at the end of it, you kissed me.”

Laurel doesn’t answer with words, just with an amalgamation of feelings ranging from guilt to sorrow to inner turmoil. 

“That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.” 

Dinah ends the call. It leaves Laurel stumped. It’s great to have an explanation and all, but it doesn’t exactly clarify why Dinah has been treating her like the plague. 

All it does is leave Laurel pondering what it would feel like to kiss Dinah. It’s the first time she lets herself consider it.

Oliver calls. He asks Laurel for her help with a private mission involving some undignified persons he doesn’t want Felicity and the rest of the team associated with. She should probably be offended, but Laurel really needs to blow off some steam.

Since Dinah’s last reveal, things have hardly improved between them. 

Laurel’s imagination, however, has only enhanced in its abilities to create vivid fantasies involving her and Dinah. Fantasies involving a life closer to domestic than Laurel ever thought she was made for. This stupid soulmate bond has them closer than any couple on Earth-1, yet Laurel still feels so far. 

Laurel doesn’t know wanting like she wants Dinah. The experience is overwhelming and leaves her without sleep for weeks on end. 

She accepts the mission. Laurel is thanked for her efforts with a metal pipe to the head. 

Dinah’s head is throbbing by the time she makes it home from her shift, and it takes everything in her being not to text Laurel and demand she take some Tylenol. She really thinks about it though, has the message typed out and everything, but it’s interrupted by a call from Felicity.

“You need to get to Star City General. Laurel’s hurt.”

Dinah knows Laurel isn’t that hurt, otherwise she would be in immense pain. This is probably one of Laurel’s elaborate stunts to get Dinah’s attention again, something on par with all of the late night adrenaline shocks and purposeful injuries. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Felicity is taken aback by Dinah’s callous words. It’s shocking Dinah doesn’t care more. “Oliver said there was a lot of blood.”

Dinah goes to the hospital, mostly to prove a point that Laurel should really let Dinah brood in private rather than drag her out for an injury, but when Dinah arrives to the sight of Laurel in a gown, she feels physically ill.

Laurel’s complexion is ashen, and under her right eye is a blue and black contusion. She has more than a few stitches over her eyebrow and looks downright damaged. Dinah can’t push down the wave of nausea that comes; Laurel could have been hurt, actually hurt, and Dinah almost didn’t come out of some idiotic intent to ignore her own feelings.

“Please don’t make me throw up on myself. I’m already being treated for head trauma, let’s not make it stomach as well.”

It takes a monument effort for Dinah to stop herself from wrapping Laurel in a hug. Her and Laurel don’t do that, don’t hug. But Dinah wants to, wants to be that close to Laurel despite everything in their past that should make her want nothing of the sort.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dinah chastises, for lack of a better reaction. “Putting yourself in danger like that, what were you thinking?”

And, okay, now Laurel is confused. Dinah should be proud of her for working with Oliver, for going on a mission for the betterment of Star City, not pissed. For months, all Dinah seemed to do was lecture Laurel about the value of heroics, but now…

“I was _thinking_ ,” Laurel enunciates the word deliberately, “about the safety of the city. Isn’t that what you’re always on about?”

“God, are you really that stupid, Laurel?” As if Dinah cares about the safety of the city when it comes down to the safety of Laurel.

Dinah shakes her head as tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. She is not about to cry over this. The vision of Laurel in a hospital bed with a clear head injury is almost too much to bear though, and it takes everything in her power to prevent the overflow.

Dinah doesn’t want to feel this way. She shouldn’t. Not about Laurel. Laurel, who Dinah used to hate, who Dinah wanted dead, wiped from the face of every Earth. 

Holding the woman who killed Vince dear shouldn’t be in the cards, but it’s _Laurel_. It’s Laurel, and yes, Dinah used to be her enemy, but Dinah is apparently also her soulmate. Against all odds, against what Dinah predicted, she’s found herself falling for Laurel like soulmates always do. 

Soulmates shouldn’t even exist. They don’t exist, not here, not for Dinah, except they _do,_ and Laurel is living proof of it. Fate really has its way of defying all odds and jumping universes to put Laurel here in front of Dinah.

Dinah wrings her hands out, then threads them behind her neck and pulls down. She paces the foot of Laurel’s bed in discomfort, thinking about how she came to be here. How she has this stupid soul mark which she should hate with all of her heart, but instead, she loves it. Because Dinah loves the person it’s attached to. Loves Laurel.

Even if Laurel is a disaster of a human who gets herself into trouble, sometimes seemingly for the fun of it.

Dinah’s walking in a state of distress, thinking about how she loves Laurel and how stupid she’s been to try to deny it, when Laurel says, “I love you too.”

Dinah spins on her heels so fast it’s a wonder she doesn’t lose her footing. “What?”

Laurel smiles and it isn’t an arrogant smirk like normal. It’s genuine and sweet and borders on enamored because Laurel knows Dinah loves her. She feels it radiate from Dinah’s heart into her own soul and there’s no way to deny the sensation. It couldn't be anything else.

“I said ‘I love you too’.” 

“I never said that.” Dinah crosses her arms and just why she’s being so stubborn, Dinah isn’t sure. She was just thinking it one second ago, but it’s hard to drop the walls she spent so long building up. 

“You didn’t have to.”

Dinah finally relaxes her posture and moves from her statuesque position at the foot of Laurel’s hospital bed to sit in the armchair by Laurel’s head. Laurel threads her fingers with Dinah’s to keep them from kneading in more anguish. As she does so, Dinah watches their hands intently. They fit together well.

Laurel rubs her thumb along the back of Dinah’s hand, and Dinah eases into it. Touching Laurel should be weird, they’ve never really touched before, but it’s like they were made to. 

(Maybe they were, Dinah thinks momentarily.)

Dinah clears her throat. “So-”

“So?” Laurel’s eyes shine with familiar mischief.

“Remember when I said we were choosing not to be together?” Laurel nods. “Can I take that back?”

The part of Laurel who is an asshole wants to toy with Dinah, to say no for a second. But Dinah’s sitting right next to her with expectant eyes overflowing with affection, and Laurel would never in a million years want to take that away. 

Laurel smiles with a tilt of her head. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

Dinah does and she sees color. 

**Author's Note:**

> hmu if you enjoyed this cause writing this was SO FUN and I loved every second of it❤️


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